At Poetic Asides, we were asked to write from the perspective of another. One was a tea bag steeping in boiling water, but then came this from my pregnancy 23 years ago… Hope you like it! Amy
SINGLE ROOM OCCUPANCY
Safe here and comforted
by a rhythm so steady
Nourished effortlessly
All I need, I have
Voices muffled but familiar
Hearing them more clearly
as the days pass
Hoping to meet them soon
Upside down now, I think
Ready to tackle the tunnel
and emerge gasping
into the light
© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
WHATEVER COMES (for Poets United)
Whatever you think about me
I am human
I have feelings
Feelings that have been stomped on
or caressed
depending on the person and circumstance
I am an American from Europe
whose white skin
and heterosexuality
and youth in the suburbs
gave me advantages
over those who weren’t dealt the same cards
or even given cards from the same deck
I am a woman who still doesn’t have
the same Constitutional rights as males
but who can vote and speak her mind
who doesn’t have to wear a burqa
who doesn’t risk being stoned to death
because she dared leave the house without her husband
I am not threatened by TV personalities
who admit they don’t believe half their hate speech
(they are just doing what their sponsors tell them)
who have no degrees in journalism
(one a college dropout, the other a deejay)
They don’t speak from their hearts
but from their wallets
and they freely admit it
Sure, it’s mercenary and incites violence
But it’s a living
Powers of such as these are limited
only by the willingness of their listeners
to be sheep, to blame the least in our society
for their current woes
(this time it’s Mexicans and gays; last time it was Jews;
before that, Armenians, before that…)
When Jesus was surrounded by “unclean” street urchins
he told the disciples not to chase them away
but to let them come closer
He didn’t want them deported to another town
He didn’t call them unclean or unworthy
He didn’t charge co-pays when healing the poor
He acted out of love
He also raised a ruckus
that resonates to this very day
for to love one’s enemies is an almost impossible task
and to love one’s neighbor,
harder still when he brags he ran them over,
but they were “just Mexicans”
Jesus was hung because of words
and all his words were loving
If our poetic world was only Whitman, Dickinson, Dickens
bereft of Ginsburg, Baraka, Gwendolyn Brooks
how poor this world would be
Provocation is healthy
What makes one’s blood course faster
makes one’s mind more nimble
Sure, I get provoked
But I stand by my right as an artist
to call out powerful hate-mongers
Plato banned poets because
he claimed they drew their inspiration
from imaginary worlds
Those of us who draw from the real world
do so in the name of justice
of compassion for the Other
regardless of religion or color
regardless of the consequences
in spite of whatever comes
© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
We were asked to put ourselves in someone else’s place and write about the experience. Here is one of three I wrote today. Enjoy!
SINGLE ROOM OCCUPANCY
Safe here and comforted
by a rhythm so steady
Nourished effortlessly
All I need, I have
Voices muffled but familiar
Hearing them more clearly
as the days pass
Hoping to meet them soon
Upside down now, I think
Ready to tackle the tunnel
and emerge gasping
into the light
(c) 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
BAD INHABITANTS! BAD! (For Jingle’s Blog)
After years of neglect
the elemental truth is this:
We have failed
as stewards of our planet
as guardians of
the seventh generation to come
Our rain is acid and
wells polluted as we drill for
The Next Big Thing to power our
Next Big Honkin’ Truck We Don’t Need
Industry, single drivers, and cow farts
Too many vehicles, not enough trees
Too much red meat, not enough veggies
have rendered the air toxic
Farming was once a family business
Now CAFOS and Con-Aggravation
slosh our ground with liquid shit
Poverty rapes the rain forests
Driving up SoCal’s Highway 1
some whack job flicks a butt out the window
That spark becomes a flames becomes a wildfire
becomes death and destruction
Water, Air, Earth, Fire
Elements of the earth
Elements of our dearth of desire
to let the seventh generation be born and have their say
© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
SHE IS ELEMENTARY
She is air.
Refreshing caress of a soft breeze messing with
your carefully coiffed hairdo
She reminds you to let go
to bend with the wind
She is water.
Drip drip dropping from the faucet lightly
Listen: She’s intent on stealing your attention
She could boil
but chooses to stay cool
She is fire.
Dancing on a waxy wick
A flickering flame in your darkest moment
All she needs is your spare wood and
a match to warm you woolen soft
She is earth.
Freshly tilled soil, embracing new seeds
Covering, comforting each burgeoning life
Creation begins with her, even as
you are the soil from which she herself was sprung
She is your daughter
All the elements of a true force of nature
© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Thanks to progressive radio host (and proud WNYer) Stephanie Miller for the phrase “Stupid O’Clock.” She’s a wonderful antidote to Beck and Rush, along with Ed Schultz and Randi Rhodes… if your city CARRIES progressive radio.
STUPID O’CLOCK STUCK (Writer’s Island past prompt)
Jagged maze
zigzagging from row to row
frenzied search for the Big Cheese
Cheating, skipping lines, flying across the labyrinth
Cornered by repetitions of
jumbled choruses
at stupid o’clock in the
late night of soul’s mourning
My frontal lobe
a lava lamp bursting with I don’t know
Each thought glomming onto the next
Floating in inky blue warmth
Even with the pillow
pulled tight over my head
desperate for sleep, still the sight
Molasses morass glowing
© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Sure to tick off the White Separatists and the Black Separatists and… go ahead, give me your best shot in the comments section! Just remember, if you burn a cross on my lawn, my husband is a pastor, so you’ll look really dumb. Amy
NATURAL BRONZE
In Sunday School we were taught
subtle suburban racism
“Red and yellow, black and white
They are precious in his sight”
Less a melting pot than a box of crayons
Let’s lay it down:
We’re all shades of brown.
Humans began in one place
Call it Garden of Eden
Cradle of Civilization
Where the Aliens Landed and Changed Stuff
It was Africa, and we all know it
Some roamed to the north and
their penance was loss of melanin
Climate, diet, you can’t deny it
Beige, buff, tan, taupe
Copper, bronze, sienna
Native Americans are not colored henna
Asians aren’t yellow
(nor are they “inscrutable,” so stop saying that)
Africans aren’t black, but ink is
And this page is white.
If we were made in God’s image,
why do we pick creation apart with prejudice?
Questioning God… the eternal flaw, the ever-present sin
© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Thoughts on censorship from a free speech advocate.
COLD AS A SWASTIKA
And when they had gathered all the books
Works of Jewish and other subversive writers
Thoughts of Einstein
Dark musings of playwright Bertoldt Brecht
(every time you hum “Mack the Knife,” remember him)
Lenin, Trotsky, Zola (politics)
From Sigmund Freud to Ernest Hemingway
Ironically, Jack London’s Arctic went into the pyre
And then the flames – everyone pulled out matches to participate in
a funeral worthy of a ship-bound Viking
The death of thousands of words
too dangerous to read
Thoughts polluting the minds of
pure-blooded, ‘real’ Germans
The chill pored over intellectuals
Jews and Christians alike
Frozen in time, these works
Alive elsewhere, but here during the Nazi regime
forbidden fruit
Icewater veins of torch-wielding youth
who, had they read the books
might have understood what was going wrong
Here, in America
that same icy atmosphere prevails
over “Harry Potter”
over “Huck Finn”
over “Catcher in the Rye”
We don’t burn ’em; we ban ’em
And the North wind keeps on blowing
© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Between the Tea Party Birther who so ignorantly “accused” the president of HAVING AN ARABIC MIDDLE NAME (like it’s a crime?) and the plethora of poets who aren’t listening to anyone besides The Three Stooges (Moe – Sarah Palin; Curly – Glenn “Mr Potatohead” Beck; Larry – Rush), it’s time for some Fair And Balanced poetry!! Amy
THE CYCLE OF MISINFORMATION
An Austrian and a German walk into a bar
and put their heads together
Repeat the falsehood often enough
and it becomes the truth
especially if the public is so distracted by their
financial misery that they will believe anything
blame anyone
for their problems
A Texan and a Texan walk into an office
and put their heads together
Make one Texan from Wyoming, repeat, rinse
and it becomes a ticket
especially if the public is so confused by ballots that
they will believe anything Diebolt says
agree with anyone
so long as their fortunes are safe
An African American man walks into the White House
and the cockroaches are no longer afraid of the light
Say the president isn’t American, isn’t a Christian
and it becomes the truth
especially if a draft dodger and a college dropout say so
and the public is so willing to believe them
and the Lady in Red says “You betcha!”
And now the debt from the war
that was put on a Chinese credit card by the Texans
(in place of real homeland security, like health care
and educating our kids)
Is blamed on the new president (doesn’t he know his place?)
because they can and they own the media
and most self-aggrandizing Christians don’t have Muslim friends
As someone once said,
It’s so heartening to see one prejudice
replaced by another
(c) 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
PATIENT FISHER
Dad, Uncle Tommy, and Grandpa Bill
invited me to go fishing with them
I was only five and quite honored
Turned out I was in charge of the beer
Keeping it tied to the rowboat
immersed in the chill of the lake
They whispered their jokes and told me
that fishing is all about patience
Tossing out the line and waiting for a nibble
If you didn’t get a fish the first time, you tried again
You grow up, you adapt those lessons learned
to your adult life
In matters of faith, I remain a patient fisher
Living each day as though I’m tossing out a line
quietly, calmly, carefully
If someone nibbles, I let them
If they grab the line with gusto, I share my journey
And sometimes, if the water is just right
We float in a rowboat side by side
quietly chatting, sharing what God has offered us
© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
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